W
ith all these forays into the fields of Weir, I should have an immunity to mediocrity. What lures me into these barren places is the discographer’s desire to complete the big picture (in this case, the Dead), but Weir’s work never seems to fit. He’s not cultivating the same audience as the Dead, not feeding some alternate creative engine, but seems to be biding his time on the off-chance that he’ll sail into a commercial crosswind. Starship got lucky like this in the ‘80s, so lightning could strike twice, especially when you consider that Bobby Cochran (who sings half the material) sounds a little like Grace Slick. But the material, much of it written by professional songwriters, is lame. “She’s livin’ like a lady of leisure / And lovin’ like a thief in the night” (from “Lifeguard”) is fair warning that it gets pretty deep. If you’re looking for islands of integrity, Weir’s turns on “Thunder & Lightning” and “Ain’t That Peculiar” are pretty good. But the opening “I Want To Live In America” is more indicative of the Midnites’ bald intent to follow the radio dial into the great, bland beyond. The closing “Gloria Monday” is a better use of the band’s time, although you have to wonder whether Weir will still have any groupies left after this album. Honestly, this album is probably as far as I’ll get in the world of Weir. He’s never cultivated the kind of solo career that Jerry Garcia or Mickey Hart have, never delivered on the potential of the Dead’s second gunslinger (except presumably for Ace) and seems to drift through projects with minimal engagement. And we are not immune.